


Sneaking Into a Fancy Party

by ficsandcatsandficsandcats



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:14:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23959768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficsandcatsandficsandcats/pseuds/ficsandcatsandficsandcats
Summary: Reader Request: For your consideration (and maybe a bit of a request), a classic trope: reader and Jaskier are pining for each other, the Gang has to sneak into a fancy party so they have to dress up. In comes the reader - who usually wears unassuming clothing - in a super gorgeous outfit, looking like an etherial being sent from the heavens above. Cue Jaskier turning into a tongue-tied mess.
Relationships: Jaskier | Dandelion/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 30





	Sneaking Into a Fancy Party

“Just breathe,” you murmured to yourself. You’d been standing behind the pillar that led to the towering staircase you’d have to walk down, presenting yourself to be viewed by everyone at the party. You knew this was a thing that was done sometimes at parties, people being announced and paraded for scrutiny, but could never have anticipated that one day you would have a turn on display.

“You ok?” a gruff, familiar voice says behind you. You spin and see Geralt giving you a questioning look.

“I’m just a bit… it’s a lot,” you confess, gesturing to your attire. Geralt grunted in agreement, likely as uncomfortable as you were in the deep emerald green velvet ensemble Jaskier had ordered for him. Jaskier had been in charge of designing and procuring all of their finery since he had the most experience being around noble people. You remembered the way he had fussed about finding the exact shade of blue to bring out your Y/E/C eyes. He had landed on a deep navy blue shade and added embellishments around the bodice and sleeves which faded into a mesh fabric. The dress rested just off her shoulders and flowed out in a train that was stupidly impractical but even you had to admit it was stunning. A far cry from your usual attire of loose-fitting white shirt and brown trousers. Even the shoes you wore, soft, velvet slippers in that same midnight blue, were as unlike your usual worn leather boots as possible. Your Y/H/C hair was coiffed into a complicated braided updo that you would never have been able to figure out yourself in a thousand years. You knew you dressed the part but you still feared the watchful eyes of the nobles below.

“Jaskier is waiting for us,” Geralt says. “You’ve got to face it sometime. Come on, I’ll walk you down.”

You’re touched by Geralt’s offer, knowing he would rather eat glass than draw attention to himself, especially dressed this way, and you shake your head.

“That’s very kind but I can do this,” You say, steeling your resolve, and approach the top of the stairs.

———-

Jaskier felt right at home, happy to be in a familiar setting for the first time in ages. He knew that Y/N and Geralt were used to traveling and even he had adapted somewhat, but nothing compared to an evening of entertainment and decadence. He was looking for you, excited to see the dress he’d designed. You would have looked good in anything but he’d especially tried to make it set you apart the way you deserved, to emphasize the loveliness he’d dedicated to memory as you journeyed together.

“Presenting Y/F/N of Novigrad,” a voice announced and Jaskier’s eyes snapped to the top of the stairs. His heart stopped and he knew if he dropped dead right there, he would die a happy man. He watched breathlessly as you walked – no, humans walked, angels glided – down the stairs. The simple makeup you’d chosen perfectly accented your features and the dress flowed behind you making you look like a goddess of the night, pouring the heavens over the earth and darkening the skies so all may sleep. But who could sleep when you stood there to admire?

You loomed closer into view, maneuvering around people until you’d made your way to Jaskier who gaped at you openly.

“Jaskier say something,” you pleaded. He tries to force his mouth to form words but he’s been struck mute. Your ethereal beauty has completely undone him.

“Are you alright?” you asked, genuine concern reaching your voice.

“He’ll be fine,” Geralt says, clapping Jaskier on the shoulder, “You look lovely.”

“Lovely?” Jaskier asks incredulously, breaking his silence. He turns on Geralt and gives him an insulted look. “Is the moon ‘lovely’? Is Aphrodite ‘lovely’? Lovely my arse, she’s… well… she’s…” his voice trails away as he tries to summon a language that can properly describe you but English and Elder are both failing him.

“You look quite well too,” you say, blushing a vibrant red.

“Why don’t you dance with Y/N while I search the perimeter?” Geralt asks. Pushing Jaskier towards you gently. He walks away before Jaskier can say anything else and you bite your lip anxiously. Jaskier’s eyes flit away quickly from your mouth when you look up at him.

“Well?” you ask weakly, “Dance?”

“Of course,” he says and takes your hand to pull you a bit closer. You only barely remember the steps that Jaskier taught you before you came but Jaskier is oblivious to any missteps you take, eyes unable to leave your face.

“The dress is gorgeous,” you say, trying to find something to talk about.

“It’s nothing compared to you,” he insists, turning you in a gentle spin.

“Oh come on,” you scoff.

“I’m serious,” he says, pulling you back in, your faces close enough that you can see the curl of his perfect lashes and the brilliant hue of his eyes.

“Y/N, there’s something I’ve never told you… and I hesitate to mention it now lest you think it’s because you’re wearing this dress or have makeup on or anything like that but… I don’t know how much longer I can go without saying the words,” Jaskier begins, taking both of your hands in his and clasping them tightly. You feel your heart beating so hard in your chest you’re certain it must rival the musicians playing for the dancing couples around you. You’ve stopped still in the middle of the dancing throng, time stopping as you wait breathlessly for the next words Jaskier will speak, praying they’re the ones you have been holding close to your heart in desperate silence for ages.

“Y/N I –”

“Jaskier, Y/N, we have to go, now,” Geralt turns up out of nowhere, seizing your hand and Jaskier’s arm and begins to pull you both away. Jaskier’s protests are met with defiant silence and you soon see the cause of Geralt’s urgency as the host runs into the main hall with several guards around him, scanning the crowd for your faces. You manage to get to your horses, Geralt on Roach and you and Jaskier on a horse you bought specifically to get away quickly from the party if things went south, and you rode hard away from the party pursued by a litany of guards. The adrenaline pumping through your veins has nothing to do with their pursuit and everything to do with the man whose arms surround your waist and you ride harder than you’ve ever ridden in your life, determined not to die without hearing the end of Jaskier’s sentence and finally confessing your own long held secret.


End file.
